


Eventuality

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-15
Updated: 2011-05-21
Packaged: 2019-01-19 02:42:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12401415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: Lily Evans and James Potter? Surely just an eventuality...





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

** EVENTUALITY **

**Part One**

From the moment James Potter opened his eyes that morning he felt strange, as though something great was about to happen, something life-changing, something to push his life out of its mind-numbing drudgery into something spectacular.

It was a very strange day.

It began normally enough. Sirius woke him up by jumping on him as he did every morning, the toast was burnt again and Transfiguration was very nearly murder.

It was just preceding the fourth lesson of the day that something extremely important, which actually looked insignificant happened to put his strange mood into perspective. It was simply a conversation with his best friend that set the ball rolling.

* * *

 

She smelled of flowers and tasted like sin.

_In your fantasies, anyway._

James sighed as he watched her stride elegantly down the corridor away from him. She refused to acknowledge his existence, yet he still insisted on torturing himself with watching her, wanting her. The very first time he had laid eyes on her he was done for. She had been sitting all alone in her train compartment, sporting blue dungarees and scuffed knees. It was her hair that had struck him first; a gloriously messy mane of red that had surrounded her like a halo. The worried frown and smudge of dirt that covered her face convinced him that she wasn't in fact an angel or a figment of his imagination, but a real girl. She had rips in her clothes, dirt on her face, leaves in her hair, and she was the first girl he'd ever seen who seemed like she'd prefer a good arm wrestle over a tea party any day of the week. He was besotted instantly, and all of his previous anti-girl ideas flew out of the window.

Despite his sudden infatuation, James had found himself inexplicably barging into her peaceful train compartment, loudly announcing his arrival, and demanding to know why she looked like she’d fallen out of a tree. It hadn’t gone well. Just a few moments after he’d decided she was the one for him, she had come to the conclusion that he was a rude, contemptible idiot who was beneath her notice.

So he had continued to make a fool of himself, tormenting and insulting her, unable to break out of the role that he had cast himself in. Her knees were no longer scuffed, her clothes neat as a pin, and her hair had mellowed into soft red waves that rolled down her back, but his devotion didn’t waiver once. He wish he could say that he’d changed as much, but alas he had found it surprisingly hard to jerk himself out of the pattern.

A specific incident just a month previously involving Snape, pants, and a very angry Lily had taught James that being arrogant, obnoxious, and mean was not the best way to win the heart of the girl of his dreams, and, at a loss as to what else to do, he settled on descending into silent awe whenever she was within a 200 metre radius. He knew his feelings were perfectly obvious to everyone but her, and he knew that they laughed at him behind his back. He didn’t care; she was worth it. To him, Lily Evans was heaven, she was perfection, she was-

_Totally out of your league._

That was the sad fact of their relationship. He worshiped her; she thought he was a moron. It was unfair really, because he definitely had improved-

His thoughts came to an unwelcome halt as he was slapped rather viciously over the back of the head with a rolled up copy of the 'Daily Prophet'. "OW!"

"Pull yourself together, mate. She is never going to notice you." Sirius slung an arm around James's neck and proceeded to drag him in the opposite direction.

He tried in vain to pull himself away but after a few moments of struggling resigned himself to the fact that no one could escape the Black death hold. "I don't know what you're talking about! I was merely casually observing."

_HA! What you were doing would be better described as ‘stalking’._

Sirius patted him on the head jovially. "Stop kidding yourself, mate. What about her?" He pointed to a tall brunette giggling madly and trying unsuccessfully to smoulder at them. "Kimberley Mulchester or Manchester or whatever. Something with chest in the middle. She'll do for you, mate- nice bum, nice face, bit annoying but can't ask for everything, can you?"

"She's not my type!" In fact, he considered her rather loathsome.

Sirius barked out a laugh. "Yeah, and what is your type? Girls who have red hair and green eyes and just so happen to go by the name Lily Evans?"

James went red- partly from embarrassment and partly because Sirius's arm was starting to cut off his air supply- and choked out, "What do you care?"

This seemed to surprise his captor enough that James was able to yank himself free and storm off in a huff.

"What? I care." Sirius was left talking to an empty corridor and yelled after his friend, "I CARE!"

* * *

 

"This is for you." Sirius waltzed into the Boys' Dormitory and dropped a tiny object wrapped in his school tie into his friend's bed.

"What is it?" James asked suspiciously. The last time he'd accepted one of Sirius' so-called 'gifts' he'd ended up with green hair for a week.

But Sirius just grinned smugly, extremely pleased with himself. "It's to show you that I care. It's to help you with Evans."

James unravelled the parcel and a small, gold hourglass dropped into his palm. He knew what this object was, he’d seen detailed diagrams in one of his Charms text books. He remembered being diverted by the shininess and spending at least half an hour daydreaming about the adventures that could be had if one was in possession of such a device. What he was utterly perplexed about was why one was now nestled in his hand. It wasn't the sort of thing you find just lying around. "A Time-Turner? But how did you…" he trailed off and suddenly gaped at his friend. "You- You- Tell me you didn't get this where I think you got it?"

"Yep." Sirius grinned.

James put his head in his hands, not quite able to believe it. "So when you…"

"Yep."

"You actually…"

"Yep."

"You idiot."

"What?" Sirius frowned. "I thought you'd be happy."

James laughed ironically and began to pace. "You thought I'd be _happy_ that you set a fellow student's hair on fire-"

"You have to admit that was funny!" he burst in.

“- To get sent to the Headmaster’s Office. Then to round off a good day you steal from bloodyDumbledore! Of course I'm mad, Padfoot, you could be expelled!"

"Ooh," said Sirius, his eyebrows raised. "Iknewyou’d be no fun. The Top Nacho didn't notice anything so what's the problem?"

“First of all, stop calling Dumbledore the ‘Top Nacho’, and secondly, he definitely noticed. He doesn’t miss a trick.” But, James suddenly thought, if the Headmaster hadn’t wanted it gone, he would never have allowed Sirius to take it. Did he… surely not… could - could Dumbledore actually want him touseit?

"Padfoot, how did you think this would help me with Lily?"

"Erm…" Sirius rubbed his chin, thoughtfully. "You could just- well… maybe- if she… oh, I don't know!" he snapped, sitting down on his bed, sulkily. "It was just lying there on his desk being all tempting and shiny and practically screaming 'take me!'.”

_You should return it. It’d be the proper thing to do._

James furrowed his brow, pursed his lips and began to pace. "So Dumbledore justhappenedto leave a Time-Turner lying around? Since when does Dumbledore do anything by accident? Every teacher in the school knows to lock away anything even vaguely interesting once a Marauder is in the room. So… did hewantyou to get it? For me? Interesting."

"Interesting?"

James grinned mischievously. "Very interesting."

Sirius flopped down onto his bed and asked, with a smile, "Do I sense a plan coming on?"

"Yes, my friend," said James. "I believe you do."

_And yet why do I have a bad feeling about this?_

* * *

**A/N:** Another little Lily/James story that I started years ago and took another few years to finish. There are three parts to it, all of which are finished, I've just got to update. So please review and I'll update quicker!

 


	2. Part Two

**EVENTUALITY**

**Part Two**

James slowly climbed towards consciousness and waited for Sirius to jump on him like he had at eight o' clock every morning for the past five years; his own personal alarm clock. But the usual yells of 'get up get up get up get up'never came.

He gingerly opened his eyes and stared at the blurry ceiling, wondering what had happened to his best friend.

It was nearly thirty seconds later when he realised that it wasn't his ceiling he was staring at.

He scrambled around the bedside tables, feeling for something that might resemble his glasses as panic began to rise up his throat. He let out a relieved breath when his fingers grabbed onto a likely object and he shoved them onto his face.

He surveyed the bedroom for a few seconds- bed, wardrobe, desk, knick-knackers. Completely normal. The problem was, he didn't recognise one inch of it.

With a shriek, he sprang out of bed to find that whoever had kidnapped him had stripped him naked first. He frantically yanked on a pair of pyjama bottoms he found slung across the bottom of the bed and stared about the room, trying not to panic.

Where the hell was he?

James paused for a second, his hands on his hips, and took a deep calming breath as he tried to work out what was happening. He was still James Potter, he knew that. He knew that he was born on 27 March 1960, he knew that he loved paper flavoured Bertie Bott's Every Flavoured Beans, he hated sardines, and was quite partial to Quidditch.

He did feel a bit weird, though. As a normal 15-year-old boy he was constantly plagued by muscles that were fraught with a strange tension. Sirius insisted that it'd disappear if he 'got some' and James was inclined to agree with him as even the hours of hard training he'd forced himself to endure had done nothing to ease his aching body or push images of what could happen in dark corners and hidden nooks out of his imagination. But now, in this strange place, he was blessedly free of the tension that had dogged him. In fact, he felt great. Apart from being scared out of his wits, his body felt rested, relaxed and perfectly comfortable with itself. If he didn't know better he would've suspected that he had, indeed, 'got some' last night.

But that was impossible. Mainly, because he was positive that even if he was unconscious at the time he'd still somehow remember, and secondly, he couldn't bring himself to face the possibility that he  _had '_ got some' and slept through it.

Then it all came thundering back to him. He had thought it'd be an excellent idea to indulge in a spot of time travelling at Dumbledore's obvious behest. He'd decided that he would go to the future, have a nosy around, maybe meet up with the future-Marauders and be back at Hogwarts in time for tea, fully satisfied that he had a bright future ahead of him. Now that he was here, alone, in a strange place, a strange time,  _naked_ , he felt rather differently on the subject.

Why did his bright ideas always end in the same way? Why did  _every one_ of his plans backfire-

_Because you don't plan, you plot instead, and every plot is terrible and completely irresponsible. How do you expect to accomplish anything if you never prepare properly?_

He shook his head to dislodge the nagging voice, frustrated that she'd even followed him here, light years from home. It had started in his third year when suddenly one day her voice had popped into his head, giving advice, lecturing, berating, and shouting. Sometimes, very late at night, when he was pretending to sleep, she would whisper to him, but that was one thing he had barely admitted to himself, let alone his friends.

Sirius insisted he was mentally ill and he was inclined to agree.

_You deserve everything you get. If you had stopped Black from stealing that Time-Turner none of this would have happened-_

A sound drifted through the bedroom floor, startling him from his internal argument. It was the voice of an angel gurgling what he thought sounded a bit like some sort of deranged opera. His heart sped and he slowly crept towards the bathroom where the unknown person sang loudly in the shower.

"Scaramouche! Scaramouche! Will you do the fandango?" the voice, muffled by the showering water, sung happily.

He put his ear against the door, desperate to know who it was. Unless Sirius had had a sex change that was definitely a woman.

He put his hand on the door, desperately willing his ears to identify the voice currently warbling "Galileo!". He let out a startled shout as he caught site of something glittering on his hand and accidentally pushed open the door he had been so tentatively creeping around.

The simple gold wedding ring on his finger seemed to indicate it was  _his_ wife humming a guitar solo badly. _His wife!_

He was still trying to process that sudden shocking discovery (he was married? He was still at school! Who in their right mind would marry him?), when he realised that in his surprise he had pushed open the bathroom door, revealing through the heavy steam a vague outline of a sink, a toilet, and a bath in which a blurry figure was obviously showering behind the flowery curtain.

The voice ("Bismillah! We will not let you go!") was clearer now, echoing off of the bathroom tiles as he stepped gingerly across the threshold. He knew that voice, he was sure, but he couldn't quite work out-

Suddenly, millions of horrid scenarios raced across his mind- what if he'd married that awful girl Sirius had wanted him to go out with? What if his parents had gotten their way and he'd been landed with a vapid, dull (but pure-blooded and appropriate) trophy wife? What if Sirius had taken him to a seedy bar in Mexico, gotten him drunk, married him off to the highest bidder, then run off to Bermuda with the money, and he, James, was destined to live the life of a sexual slave forever and ever?

He couldn't stand it anymore. If he was someone's bitch he wanted to know about it.

"H-hello?" he squeaked into the steam.

"Morning!" the woman (at least, thank Agrippa,it definitely was a woman) replied in a sing-song voice. He strained to identify her voice but the spraying water was making it near impossible. "Are you joining me?"

His legs nearly gave way at the very thought. Obviously it wasn't a marriage of convenience. But just who was issuing the invitation? There was only one way to find out-

_No, you can't! What do you think that would sound like coming from her husband?_

He very firmly told the voice in his head to shush.

"This might sound odd but... could you tell me who you are?"

To his immense surprise she let out a peal of laughter that jingled across the bathroom. "Merlin, not again. Do we have to do this every morning, James? Yes, I actually married you. Now get over it!"

"Please. I really just need you to tell me who you are!" he persisted.

"Well, if you're so insistent, come in and see for yourself."

Trying to ignore the clear invitation in her voice, he braced himself for the worst with mounting fear.

_It's probably Moaning Myrtle, you know. She's got a lovely singing voice and she does like bathrooms._

He drew back the curtain, bravely, like the steadfast Gryffindor he was.

His mind was completely devoid of thought, suspended in time, frozen in pure shock. He could only stare numbly as she turned and curved her lips into a smile. "Hi," she said, grinning seductively.

And that was when he fainted.

\--


	3. Part Three

**EVENTUALITY**

**Part Three**

' _Enervate'_

James groaned. His head was pounding as though a gnome had taken up residence inside his skull and was proceeding to bash its way out with a polo mallet. Either that or he had a hangover, which would be strange considering he'd finished his last bottle of Firewhiskey three weeks previously for Sirius's birthday celebrations. He gingerly opened his eyes and was startled to see familiar bright green eyes staring back at him worriedly.

"James. Are you okay?"

Normally, he would've found it rather strange to have Lily Evans looking at him in concern for his health, let alone asking if he was alright, but what really made him jump out of his skin was the fact that she was wrapped in a rather small towel, dripping a puddle onto the tiled floor, revealing far too much skin for him to take in and remain sane.

As he dragged his eyes up from her creamy wet shoulders and took in her face, her delightfully concerned freckles, and lips that were pursed into a puzzled 'o', it all came rushing back to him, every wonderful second of it and a wide grin spread itself across his face.

She was his. He was hers. She had agreed to marry him, to share his life, to belong to him always. She had agreed to let him love her.

Without thinking, without consulting the Evans-voice in his head, without debating with himself for hours first, he jumped up and did what any exuberant fifteen-year-old would do upon discovering that all his dreams had come true. He ran from the woman frowning at him, and proceeded to bolt out of the bedroom and run down the hall whooping with happiness.

By the time he'd done a hysterical loop of the first floor and skidded to a stop in front of an extremely bemused redhead, he still hadn't composed himself enough to speak. He stared at her, unable to quite believe that it was actually happening.

He had gone into the future and Lily Evans was his wife. And now she stood in front of him sporting only a towel and one raised eyebrow.

He pulled her into a fierce hug, his arms clutching the wet towel against her back as he squeezed her. He wondered deliriously what he'd done to deserve this sort of luck as he burrowed his face into her wet hair.

"James?" she croaked out. "Can't breathe?"

He jumped back immediately and shakily smiled. "Sorry... Lily." He said her name tentatively, enjoying rolling the sound of it around his mouth.

She looked at him strangely, like he'd suddenly sprouted a second head. "What's going on?"

"You called me James."

"What else would I call you?"

He shrugged. Just yesterday she'd called him an insufferable git.

_That's because you are an insufferable git. How did you persuade me to get within even a metre distance of you, let alone marry you? It just can't be true. I would never do that willingly. You know I wouldn't._

"I didn't _imperio_ you, did I?" he blurted out in horror.

"No." She looked startled and amused at the same time.

He grabbed her arms and asked desperately, "Are you sure you're not under my control? I'm not making you do anything?"

"Besides making me want to slap you? No. Now stop being melodramatic and calm down!" She stared up into his face with concern. "Did you bang your head? You haven't got concussion, have you?"

"Pinch me."

"What?"

"Pinch me. I need to know I'm not dreaming."

Her brow furrowed and she put a hand to his forehead. "You're not dreaming but you are starting to scare me. Are you feeling okay?"

_You must be dreaming. There is no way that I would ever be this concerned over your health._

He ignored the voice and sent the real Lily standing before him a beaming smile. "I'm absolutely wonderful."

"Hmm," she said as she walked passed him into the bedroom, dropping the towel that had been wrapped around her. "Why don't you go and get some breakfast while I'm getting dressed?" She watched him and his slack-jawed expression while she towel dried her hair, and he found it very difficult to drag his eyes back up to her face. "And then you can explain why you're acting so strange."

He nodded half-heartedly and walked very slowly (and backwards) from the bedroom, his eyes drinking her in as she cast him suspicious glances and proceeded to get ready. After she wrapped a dressing gown around her form and shooed him from the room, he slowly walked down the corridor, mentally burning the image that he'd just seen into his brain.

After several detours and wrong turns wherein he discovered another bathroom, a guest bedroom full of boxes labelled things like 'Quidditch stuff', 'Lily's muggle junk', and 'Things Sirius needs to get rid of before we get arrested for storing them', and a lounge with large fireplace and several comfortable-looking sofas in it, James finally found himself stood in the centre of a small and welcoming kitchen so clean it practically screamed 'cook in me!'.

He opened several cupboards and shut them again without really knowing what he was looking for. His brain was simultaneously frozen in shock and whizzing in excitement and confusion. He slowly sat himself down at the breakfast table and tried to logically work out what had happened to him. Even in the wizarding world it was unusual to find yourself in such a situation. For starters, he had expected to be transported to Hogwarts, to his own dorm room, just in the future. Obviously, that hadn't happened and he had a nasty suspicion that he'd made an enormous mistake in thinking it was a standard Time-Turner.

"So who are you and what have you done with my husband?" she asked as she came strolling into the kitchen, now fully dressed and hair dried.

Noticing the horrified expression on his face, she paused as she opened a cupboard door and pulled out a bowl. "It's an expression, don't look so scared. What is wrong with you today anyway?"

"Nothing," he squeaked out, before clearing his throat and trying again. "Nothing," he repeated in a deep tone that he thought sounded quite masculine and adult.

She stared at him sceptically, fingers tapping her chin as she considered him. She gave him that famous Evans look, the one that could squeeze a secret from a Goblin. He had no chance. "Really?"

He didn't trust himself to speak.

"You're not my husband, are you?"

He couldn't control his faculties as he felt himself shake his head 'no'.

In the blink of an eye, she whipped out her wand and pointed it at him, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. James knew what Lily Evans aged sixteen could do with a wand. He paled in fear as he considered what sort of damage an adult Lily could manage.

"Cup of tea?" she asked him seriously.

"What?" He blinked and she had whirled around, waving her wand in the direction of the kettle as two mugs flew out of the cupboard and landed on the kitchen side.

"I wondered when this might happen," she told him as she proceeded to make their tea.

" _What?"_

"Explain," she ordered, as she plonked down a mug of steaming tea in front of him.

He gulped and complied in a rush of stuttered words. "I found a Time-Turner- well, actually, it was Sirius who found it- actually, more like borrowed it- and- and Dumbledore wanted me to use it! So...I did," he finished lamely.

He would've expected her to shout or scream, or at least show some form of shock, but Lily just sipped at her tea thoughtfully. "A Time-Turner, you say? Are you sure?"

"Yes, I know a Time-Turner when I see one, thank you very much! I'm not an idiot!" he exclaimed indignantly, even though a nagging doubt tugged at the back of his mind. It had looked a bit odd to him though, hadn't it? He had been suspicious of it himself at first. "It was a small, golden hour-glass; a standard Time-Turner. It must have been faulty, right?"

She sighed and he could tell by the way she was sucking in her cheeks slightly that she was trying not to smile. "That was no Time-Turner, James. It was a Time- _S_ _witcher_  and that is a very different device."

James frowned. Somehow it made sense, and he suddenly had the overwhelming desire to kill his best friend for doing this to him, accidentally or not. "How do you know? They look exactly the same!"

"Easy," Lily said, smiling, and he had the feeling that she was laughing at him as she fingered the necklace dangling from her throat and held it for him to see. "Did it look like this? Time-Turners are silver, Time-Switchers are gold. Simple, really, if you pay attention."

"No one ever told me about that!" He slapped a hand to his forehead, before throwing himself out of his chair to pace the kitchen furiously. "The general public should be told about this. It could cause catastrophes. It _has_ caused a catastrophe. It's an outrage!"

While he was rambling, she stood and calmly began to make another cup of tea. The fact that she was so composed while he was practically having a nervous breakdown just made him even madder. How could he be so stupid as to mess up bloody time travel? It was practically burnt into every living witch and wizard's mind not to screw it up and he still manages to make a mess of it.

"Oh, stop being so dramatic. It's done now. Come and have a chat."

He silenced and stared at her with confusion. She wanted to chat? She was much stranger than he would've guessed. Nevertheless, he sat across from her, wrapped his hands around his mug and studied her. She looked pretty much the same as her fifteen-year-old self. Her flaming hair looked a little longer maybe, her figure a little fuller, but more or less she was the same girl who ignored him daily.

"What year are you from?" she asked him.

"1975."

"Ha! You've barely travelled at all!" she exclaimed, obviously surprised. "It's only 1978 now."

He blinked in stunned silence. In three years they would be married. Three years. 156 weeks. 1095 days. In less than a few years she would be Lily Potter and it would be perfectly normal for her to invite him to join her for a shower. It was a dream, a wonderfully glorious dream, but a dream nonetheless. It had to be. There was no way she would marry him that quickly. Maybe if he had a few decades to work on her she might give in, but just a few years? This had to be a mistake. Half-expecting the Marauders to jump out and yell 'Gotcha!' he asked, "We're married in a three years time?"

She noticed his astonished expression and laughed. "Don't be so shocked! Next week we'll have been married for three months."

"Three months?"

"Yep."

"I'm an okay husband then?" he asked hopefully. "I'm not making you desperately unhappy or anything?"

"No. I'm not unhappy." She smiled at him then and her whole face lit up.

Thank Merlin.

"So what are you doing in Charms at the moment?"

He did a double take. "What?"

"What are you doing in Charms at the moment?"

He frowned at her, baffled. "I don't take Charms."

"Yes, you do," she insisted.

He was sure he didn't. There was the lesson with the cauldrons, the one with the crystal balls, the one with the plants- "Which one is Charms again?"

She quirked a small smile and he knew she was trying not to laugh at his stupidity. "The one with Professor Flitwick. It's the subject where you swish your wand about and things get charmed." She spoke to him slowly, as though he was a five-year-old, which he greatly resented. But he still didn't understand what she was talking about.

"I'm sure I didn't take it. I would know, wouldn't I?"

She sighed in long-suffering resignation. "Well, obviously you don't. I know you were in it for a fact because you spent the whole time trying to get my attention by prodding me in the back of the head and setting fire to Severus's hair."

Oh.  _That_ Charms. "Hey, it was Sirius, not me, who set Snape on fire. I told him off for it too, he really should know better than doing that in front of a teacher!"

"I'm so proud." She rolled her eyes sarcastically. 

"Can I ask you something?" he asked, studying her. "What made you change your mind? I mean, just yesterday you told me I had more chance with Professor Dumbledore than with you. You hate me."

She smiled at him softly. "I never hated you. I actually kind of liked you."

_"What?"_

"I was a good girl and good girls aren't meant to like bad boys. It's very complicated. You'll never understand female logic so there's no point in explaining why I acted as I did."

"Okay." He frowned stupidly. He wondered if this was the extent of their future relationship. She gave him hints about the feminine mystique and he was bewildered. How could Lily have actually  _liked_ him? She'd always insisted that he was a stuck-up slug who should get his act together. Who would marry a stuck-up slug? "Did I change?" He scratched his head. "I mean, do I change into someone you could marry?"

"James." She leaned across and placed her hand over his where it rested on the table. "You didn't need to change for me. I would never have asked you to. I married you because you're you. Not because you suddenly had a personality transplant, or because you acted like someone else. All that changed was how you let me see you."

Now he was really confused. She disliked him, but she actually didn't. She didn't want him to change for her, but he somehow did. She hated the sight of him, but he managed to change how she saw him. He wasn't sure how much this chat was helping.

"Oh, stop looking so baffled. I'll let you in on a secret." She leaned forward conspiratorially. "I never hated you, you were just confusing. Everyone else I could figure out easily but you...you were an idiot in front of me, but I saw you when you thought I wasn't looking. And you were  _normal."_

"Normal?" James was highly affronted by even the suggestion. He'd always thought himself rather special. Extraordinary, even.

"You frustrated me." She was sporting a frown now and she looked off into the distance, as if recalling long forgotten memories. "I knew you had admirable qualities but it was incredibly irritating that I seemed to bring out the worst in you."

Suddenly, James felt ashamed. She was right. It wasn't her fault that he had acted like a complete nincompoop in front of her, cursing people, showing off, swaggering. Not one of his chosen strategies had even the slightest chance in working but he was at a loss at how to compose a plan  _not_ involving smirking and flirting and pranking to impress her. 

"How do I do it then? How do I manage to get you to marry me?"

She studied him with a frown and pursed her lips, weighing him up for size. Finally, she seemed to come to a decision as she carefully put her mug down, folded her arms and looked him directly in the eyes. "It was gradual, of course. It wasn't as if one day you turned into Mr Perfect and I started to swoon."

"So I didn't sweep you off your feet?" he asked, disappointedly. He'd had a rather grand vision of gracefully flying her away on his broomstick or filling a room with thousands of lilies or making a firework display spelling out 'I love you, Lily'.

"Not in so many words." She smiled in recollection. "You tried, but I wasn't having any of it. Simplicity was better. We both grew up and all the bad feelings between us just drifted away with time. We both got over it."

"Oh. That's not very exciting though is it?"

"Well, I didn't exactly make it easy," she admitted with a chagrined smile. "I fought you every step of the way until before I knew it you'd got me to the altar and I didn't really want to fight anymore."

"So I win your heart through grit and determination and I'm so wonderful I didn't need any silly romantic gimmicks?" he asked hopefully.

She patted his hand in a maternal sort of way and smiled at him indulgingly. "Something like that."

"So what happens now? Am I stuck here forever?"

"I'm afraid so. No hope for you. You'll eventually feel disjointed and out of sync with the world, leading to the near total breakdown of your mind."

"What?" It took him a few horrified second to notice the smirk on her face. "Oh. You're joking."

The smirk flourished into a smile and his heart beat a little bit faster. "James, don't worry. I'll have you home in no time. Here," she said as she pulled the Time-Switcher from around her neck. "All you need to do is turn this once anti-clockwise, click your heels three times and say 'there's no place like home'."

He frowned as he took it from her, not sure whether he should trust her wide grin. "How do you know all this?" he asked.

"How do you think, James?  _You_ gave it me. Youtold me that this would happen. When you get back to school you're going to research Time-Switchers so that by the time you end up marrying me you'll know what Ineed to know to get you back."

"Research?" He winced and his shoulders slumped. "As in books? In the Library?" He gulped. He'd never done 'research'; he'd never had to and he had fully intended for it to stay that way. The Library was full of evil geniuses, of scary shushers, of smelly books, of enforced silence. It was truly one of his most feared places. Maybe he could get-

"And no, you can't get Remus to do it for you." She sent him a strict look that made him wonder if she'd been taking lessons from Professor McGonagall. "You can't tell anyone."

"Why not?"

"Two words: time continuum." At his glum face, she added, "Don't look so miserable. A bit of reading won't do you any harm. And, between you and me, it wouldn't hurt to know a little extra about time travel and its consequences when it comes to taking your O.W.L.s." She gave him a significant look.

"You, Lily Evans, are actually helping me cheat at an exam?" He stared at her in mounting delight. "I've corrupted you!"

"You forget. I'm Lily Potter now." She grinned, a devilish glint in her eye that he didn't think he'd ever seen before. "A little bit of corruption is good for the soul."

He cackled, before rubbing his hands together in glee. "I feel an Outstanding O.W.L. coming on. Got anymore hints you'd like to dish out?"

She stood up, biting back a smile and said, "I think you should be going now."

* * *

 

James never told anyone what had happened to him that day. He doubted many people would believe him. He didn't even tell the Marauders, his fellow rapscallions and confidantes, which was a definite first. Even at age fifteen he trusted each and every one of them with his life; he just didn't trust them to resist gleefully letting slip to Lily what her future held. They would mean well but James had a feeling that if Lily found out what had happened she would not only spontaneously combust but would also accuse him of being a liar. No, he would keep his experience to himself and just hope that it had been real and not the result of some sort of mental trauma.

However, his newfound knowledge had one particularly profound advantage. He didn't lose hope. Despite her aloofness, her dislike, her vehement exclamations over how awful he was, he knew that eventually she would see him for who he really was and she would like him. In the end, she would stop fighting him and start loving him. Eventually, she would invite him into her shower. Unfortunately, this induced a certain level of smugness in his manner, for which he could offer no explanation to those who found themselves severely befuddled and vexed by it.

"What is your problem, Potter?" Lily Evans snapped at him several days after he had returned from his most extraordinary journey.

He stopped mid-smug grin and stared down at her in surprise.

"James."

"What?" she snapped with a frown on her face.

"My name is James," he replied softly. "Why don't you ever use my name, Lily?"

"I- I- You've got to be joking!"

He ignored her astonished expression. He just smiled at her, a warm, real smile that made her face flush and her eye brows disappear into her hairline, and continued past her down the corridor. He knew she was glaring after him. He wasn't worried. He began to whistle. He knew that some day she would call him James. 

**THE END**


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